Page 162 of The Waiting Game
With a roar of frustration, Felix shoved the Buffalo player away from him and waded in to help Jonah.
Jonah stewed in the penalty box, his stomach aching with guilt as he sat out his penalty. He could still feel the rage that had been building in him all game but it mingled with fear now.
What had he done?
He was supposed to be winning this game for his grandmother, not starting a brawl. Not in OT when everything was on the line.
He’d heard Coach Casey’s bellow of anger and frustration when the ref made the call.
It felt like half their team was in the box at the moment. They were jammed in there tightly, Felix pressed close beside Jonah, mopping at his sweaty brow with a towel, but Jonah couldn’t look him in the face.
Instead, he stared down at his gloves, disgusted with himself. Disgusted with guys like Sutton.
Jonah’s cheek throbbed from the punch he’d taken from Sutton. He was definitely going to be black and blue tomorrow.
The noise of the crowd swelled and Jonah glanced up, stomach twisting with fear as he watched one of Buffalo’s forwards tear down the ice toward the Fisher Cats’ net.
Matty raced toward him but with a quick wrist shot, the player flicked the puck into the air and it went sailing toward the net. Webber dove for it but just a second too late.
It glanced off his glove but kept tumbling over his shoulder until it landed on the ice.
Square in the middle of the Fisher Cats’ goal.
When the game horn sounded, Jonah made a choked noise of anger and frustration.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped at his teammates and fled out onto the ice.
This wasn’t the first playoff loss he’d ever suffered. But it was definitely the worst.
Jonah was numb as he shook the Buffalo players’ hands, choking out a “good game” that felt forced.
He’d played horribly and let the team down exactly when they needed him most.
He could try to justify it all he wanted but he’d fucked up.
He’d pushed Felix away and then, feeling guilty, he’d jumped to his defense, only to let his entire team down by ending up in the box.
Everyone was quiet as they filed into the locker room. Jonah winced when Matty flung his gloves into his stall with a loud thump.
Jonah’s guilt multiplied as he watched the guys vent their frustration, slamming gear around and swearing under their breaths.
“Fucking Buffalo,” Dustin muttered. “This place really is fucking cursed.”
“Seriously.” Jordan scowled. “It’s the worst.”
Several guys were slumped in their stalls, making no move to undress and shower. The air felt heavy, thick with a choking sense of defeat.
Coach Casey walked in, his brow furrowed. “What the hell happened out there, guys?”
Jonah, still clutching his helmet, opened his mouth to admit his failure when Matty spoke.
“Fucking Sutton! He’s such an asshole sometimes. He slammed into Haler and then tried to chirp him for drinking.”
“I can’t stand that guy,” Dustin snarled. “The shit he said while we were working on the code of conduct … and this? There’s no bar too low for guys like him.”
Casey sighed. “He’s an asshole, no doubt. But your job is to fucking keep your heads in the game. Hale seems to be the only one who actually managed that.”
“It’s my fault, Casey,” Jonah finally choked out. “I … I was already up in my head about my grandmother and the guy spouted off about Felix and I—I couldn’t keep my temper in check.”
